


If Your Body Matches (What Your Eyes Can Do)

by PanBoleyn



Series: Made Our Way By Finding What Was Real [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, M/M, but I'm not really good at it, sorry there's no smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:01:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years before interviews at the Chilton, a one-night-stand Mike can't forget and Harvey won't really remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mike's Side

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags say, this is a smutless fic, and I am sorry about that. But, really, you're better off with me not trying to do that.

The trip out to the East Coast is Bianca’s idea. She flat-out tells Mike and Anya why. “After we graduate, you two belong to the Air Force for five years. This is the last summer we’re going to have, so damn it, let’s do something interesting with it.” Mike, privately, thinks this has more to do with the fact that Don’t Ask Don’t Tell means that she can only be Anya’s ‘friend’ as far as the world is concerned. He doesn’t blame her one bit. He also doesn’t say anything about it. It really, really isn’t his business.

 

When they hit New York, driving down from Boston, Mike’s in his element. He didn’t realize how much he missed the city until he sees the skyline approaching. Trevor’s not in town, and Mike didn’t ask him what he was up to. It involves dealing pot, he suspects, and he and Trevor have their own don’t ask don’t tell policy about the latter’s criminal activities. It’s just easier that way.

 

He shows them around, tourist spots and his own favorite places, and they end up deciding, on their second and last night in town, to go out to a club. Specifically, Bianca knows someone who went to school out here who told her about a gay club, and that’s where they’re going. Which sounds good to Mike, because New York City is far enough away from Colorado that he can pretend DADT doesn’t exist as much as the girls are going to do. Odds on them getting caught out here are pretty long, after all.

 

When they get there they dance for a while, together and with strangers. Finally Mike slips off the dance floor, wanting a break. He settles in at the bar, leaning against it and watching the dancers. He finds Anya and Bianca, smiling to himself; it’s nice to see them relaxed and open outside the apartment they share over summer breaks. But at the same time… He kind of envies them. Trevor is still a bit of an open wound for him sometimes; he hasn’t met anyone who even has the potential to mean as much.

 

But he’s not here for a happily ever after tonight, he’s just here for a little fun.

 

“Not mooning after someone in the crowd, I hope.”

 

The voice is low, smooth, and Mike turns his head to see who’s talking. The guy’s maybe a decade older than Mike, a faint cocky smirk on his face. He’s attractive as hell too, with hair coming a bit loose from a slicked-back style and a couple of moles on his face that should take away from his looks but do quite the opposite.

 

“No,” Mike replies, taking a sip of his beer. “Just keeping an eye on my friends and lamenting my third wheel status,” he explains with a lopsided smile. “You?”

 

The smirk turns into a lazy grin. “Celebrating.”

 

“Alone?” So it’s not subtle, but who says he needs to be subtle?

 

Mystery man’s dark eyes rake over Mike slowly, and his breath catches a little. It’s been a while since he did anything with a guy; in Colorado he usually doesn’t think it’s worth the risk, not for something casual anyway. But this is New York, and Mike’s always been a sucker for cocky assholes, a description he can already tell fits this guy to a T.

 

“For the moment,” the guy says, and the tone of the words is a clear indication. Mike grins wickedly, shifting to lean in a little closer. Not much, though, not yet.

 

“So, what’s worth celebrating?”

 

“Do you care?”

 

Mike laughs, tilting his head back. “I guess I don’t, really, do I?” He slides a little closer, and the man’s hand curls around his wrist to draw him in. Mike lets him; being in reach for something like that was the whole idea, after all. “So, you have a name?”

 

“Harvey S-”

 

“No last names. I’m Misha,” Mike says, the nickname Anya gave him rolling easily off his tongue. He always uses it on the occasions where he picks up guys, and while it’s been a while and he doesn’t need to do it here, the habit is there. Harvey - Mike automatically thinks ‘Harvey Dent’ - raises an eyebrow.

 

“You have something against last names?”

 

“Do you care?” Mike says, leaning in till their lips are almost brushing, till they’re breathing the same air.

 

“Call it curiosity. And you’re a fucking tease, kid,” Harvey says, leaning and closing that little distance. The kiss is slow, lazy, and holy fuck it has been way too long for Mike. Still, he grins and nips at the other man’s lower lip before drawing back.

 

“Don’t ask, don’t tell, baby.”

 


	2. Harvey's Side

Lately, Harvey hasn’t frequented the clubs. He can pick up women at the Midtown bars closer to Pearson Hardman easily enough, and it’s a little simpler. He knows getting fired for being equal opportunity in his sex life isn’t likely, but in the world he’s in, it can still hurt him. The phrase professional closet exists for a reason.

 

But tonight, he doesn’t give a damn. He just closed a million dollar deal, and he’s going to cap off the night exactly how he wants. And he doesn’t want a woman tonight.

 

The club he ends up going to is a pretty new one, and the crowd is a bit younger than Harvey’d expected, but if it doesn’t work out here, he can always go somewhere else. And he thinks he might not have to, as he sips his Scotch and his eyes fall on a man leaning against the bar. Short blond hair - looks like a military cut, maybe - in jeans and t-shirt, holding a beer and watching the people on the dance floor. He’s got a slight smile on his face, mostly fond but slightly wistful, he thinks.

 

Not that Harvey cares, but it’s a good look on the guy. He’s twenty-one or twenty-two - he’d have said maybe even younger except for the beer. He walks over to stand next to him. “Not mooning after someone in the crowd, I hope?”

 

The kid turns, giving Harvey a full-on view of bright blue eyes and a lopsided grin. “No, just keeping an eye on my friends and lamenting my third wheel status. You?” There’s a spark of interest in the kid’s eyes as he looks Harvey over, and as for Harvey, well, he definitely thinks he made a good choice. Not that it was ever a question.

 

He turns a lazy grin on the younger man, and has the satisfaction of watching his eyes gleam a bit. “Celebrating.”

 

“Alone?” Oh, this is adorable, Blue Eyes isn’t even trying to be subtle. Harvey finds the lack of coyness kind of appealing, actually; lately the people he’s taken home have been as prone to innuendo-based flirting as he is. And fun as that is, the direct approach is sometimes even nicer. So he lets his eyes trace over the other man’s body, deliberately slow. “For the moment.”

 

Blue leans in, a wicked smile on his face and a matching light in his eyes. “So, what’s worth celebrating?”

 

As if he’s actually interested. “Do you care?” Harvey drawls. Blue tilts his head back when he laughs, and Harvey studies the line of his throat.

 

“I guess I don’t, really,” Blue admits, even as he moves closer to Harvey; close enough for Harvey to grip his wrist and pull him up against him. “So, you have a name?”

 

“Harvey. Harvey S-” No reason for Harvey not to give his full name; he’s discreet but not hiding, after all. But he doesn’t get a chance to really introduce himself before he’s cut off.

 

“No last names. I’m Misha,” Blue - Misha - tells him. Curious, Harvey raises an eyebrow.

 

“You have something against last names?”

 

Misha laughs again, then tips his head forward until it would actually be easier for them to be kissing than to keep that small gap between them. “Do you care?” he murmurs, turning Harvey’s earlier quip against him.

 

“Call it curiosity. And you’re a fucking tease, kid.” Harvey closes that little distance, kissing Misha slow and lazy and just barely on the safe side of public indecency. He knows how to put a world of promise into a kiss like this, and that’s just what he does. Judging from the way Misha’s eyes have gone dark, he’s been successful yet again.

 

“Don’t ask, don’t tell, baby.” And then he’s slipping out of Harvey’s hold, turning and heading for the door with one positively evil backward glance. Harvey rolls his eyes and catches up in a few long strides.

 

“We’re going to my place, so stop trying to lead.”

 

“And what if I’d rather go to mine?”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Well, it is just a hotel room.”

  
Harvey flags down a taxi and gives the driver his address; from the way Misha rolls his eyes and then slides into Harvey’s lap to kiss him again, he’s pretty sure there are no further objections.


End file.
